Let it pour
by Ryrare
Summary: A short story where Jane gets an unexpected houseguest.  T for language
1. To the bone

I panted hard. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't have happened. Did it happen? I- I cant remember. I only have one thought. I have to get home, I need a strong drink. Maybe something even stronger, I think I still had some Vikaden from surgery a few years back. I kept meaning to throw it out, but sometimes its hard to remember. It's just. I think I need to get a ride home. I'm already soaked to the bone, my dark brown bangs were getting in my eyes so I wipped them back. I must look shitty, I thought as I took a step onto the first familiar land marking. I can't remember who lives here, but he's a good friend. I banged on the door, I don't give a shit if its 2 o'clock in the fucking morning. He better answer the damn door. I lost my balance my legs felt weak as if I had been running. But I can't remember if I was. I felt the cold we mat on my knees.

I wasn't wearing any pants. I got up pulling on the door handle and pulled my shirt down a bit more. A football jersey? I don't even like football that much, but Vanpelt loaned me it because… Did I spill Coffee on my shirt? Dammit! I thought, it's just a memory why the hell is it so hard to remember?

My bangs fell back onto my eyes just as I heard the door creak open, the chain rattled as Jane saw who it was, "Lisbon?" He asked. He then looked at me and his quizzical eyes went from top to bottom.

"Why do I get the feeling that blood isn't from your period." It wasn't really a question. It never is with him. He always knows what the real deal is.

I wanted to say "I need some help," But my words got chocked in my throat. I was so exhausted, I just couldn't think straight any longer. I coughed a little and fell forward onto Patrick, he was still wearing his suit. Did he ever sleep?

He walked me in and sat me down on one of his chairs. He went to the other room muttering something about a towel. He peeked his head back into the room, "Don't worry. I've got this."

He made his sick little smile, and went to the other room. If I hadn't been so out of it, I might have actually been interested in his house. I'd never actually been inside before, just dropped him off once or twice after a case. It wasn't especially well or poorly maintained, just a house, three worn out chairs in the living room and a sofa. The TV was off in the corner, a DVD player and VHS caset player with a few tapes on it. I could see the dining room from where I was sitting, a few worn out newspapers sat on the table and there was a cup of tea, the steam still pouring out.

I wipped the bangs out of my face again and tried to clear my throut. He came back into the room, holding up a towel.

"Uh, I may not have guests over all that often, well, ever actually, but, uh, could you sit on this for a while. Maybe you want to use the-"

"Jane, I don't know what happened."

He looked at me analytically.

"I really don't know what happened." I repeated.

"I know… I heard you."

"I don't know what to do." I never "don't know what to do" I always know what to do. Then again I usually remember what happened more then five minutes ago. "Jane," I said tentatively, "I-," I swallowed and began again, "What happened to me?"

"That's something only you can tell me."

"But Jane, I can't remember! How am I supposed to tell you something I can't even remember?"

He tapped his finger against his other hand.

"Tea?" He offered.

"Jane, I'm not in the mood for food right now! I just need to know what happened to me."

"So, no tea?"

I took a heavy sigh, "Fine, I'll take some tea."

He went over to the kitchen and I heard the clicking. I scratched my head and then unfolded the towel, red of course, always red with him, and sat on it. While he was still in the kitchen I did a check I couldn't do in front of him. Yep, still wearing underwear. That could be a good sign. I can't remember though. Still.

He walked back into the room and I wrapped the towel around my legs and crossed my arms.

"Here's the tea," He handed it to me. I didn't move.

"Lisbon, please take the tea. I begrudgingly took it from him and rested it on the arm of the chair.

"So, how did you get here?"

"What?" I asked. What kind of question was that?

"This isn't anywhere close to your house or the CBI headquarters… how did you get here? I mean, It's obvious that you didn't walk here. Or at least, all the way here. After work, Lisbon. What did you do?"

What did I? "I-I'm not sure." Dammit. This seems to be getting worse.

"Think Lisbon, go through your day."

"Well, I woke up at…- Dammit Jane, can't you just hypnotize me or something?"

"I could, but I know you would rather-"

"Jane! Do I really seem to be all together right now? I hate it when you hypnotize people, but right now I think that's what I need."

He fiddled with his fingers for a moment.

"No."

Wait, what?

"What? What do you mean, 'no'?"

"Well, 'no' is the opposite of yes and it means a-,"

"Dammit, Jane I _know_ what 'no means, I just meant-,"

"Well then you should have clarified."

"I should have never come here, I should have just stayed at home instead of going onm that date- Oh my God, Jane I went on a date!"

"And that's why, 'no.'"

I sat completely still, his sick grin was annoying me again. The lamp was making his blond hair orange-ish and the brown walls seemed to be plain blocks of nothingness, except for a small photograph hanging on the wall. A picture of his family no doubt. There was another one next to it that wasn't in a frame, it was crudely taped on. I couldn't tell what it was. He looked back to see what had caught my eyes. I took that opportunity to grab a pillow and hit him on the back of his head with it.

"hey!" he said.

"You should be glad I left my gun at home. You don't want me to remember a date?"

"No, I just figured that you would remember more then you thought you would if you would just relax a little bit more. You still haven't touched your tea."

"Enough with the damn tea. Fuck the tea, I really don't care right now."

"Well, I would really appreciate it if you drank it. I bring you inside at two in the morning, for all you knew I was asleep."

"Jane, you never sleep, don't even pretend like you were. Just, take me home. I don't want to deal with this right now."

"Well, now that sounds more like Lisbon. Handle things when you're more sane. However, somebody must have done this to you, don't you agree? And if he didn't get what he wanted from you, we can't be all that sure if we cant remember now can we, then he might try again. Stay here, at least I can call 911 if it gets too bad. Do you want me to call some of the others for extra protection? I think you'll find you don't have your badge or phone."

Instinctively I reached for my pocket, I grabbed the towel. Right, no pants.

"Jane you better not be messing with me."

"Who, me? Lisbon that hurts."

"Shut up."

He smiled his sick smile again. He got up and moved to the other room, his phone in hand. I wonder what he's going to do with that, I thought sarcastically. He didn't come out for a few minutes,


	2. Drying off

I decided to take this opportunity to look at the photo from before. I may not be as smart as him, but I as sure as hell knew how to learn something as simple as a picture. I kept my hand on the towel holding it up as I wandered towards the picture. I heard a murmur of "Rigsby" come from Patrick in the other room, as much as I wanted to hear what he said I had a pretty good idea of what it would be. HE would tell him I was in trouble in the vaguest terms possible that I was in trouble and that he should keep an eye out about Patrick's place and his own. Then he would either hang up and call Cho on his own or instruct Rigsby to do so himself. I may not be a psychic, or whatever Jane is, but I can figure out a little bit about this idiot that's caused me so much pain on so many cases. Minelli will never forgive me for all the times I've had to back Jane over him because it would close a case. Jane may think I'm a hard-ass but I could be so much more hard-ass-ier.

I finally got close to the picture. I wanted to get back to my seat, Patrick doesn't have many tells, so if something showed then I wanted to kn-

"Excuse me?" I heard from behind me.

Shit.

I turned around and saw Patrick in the doorway. He didn't usually act like this around me. Hell, him saying "excuse me" was weird enough. I thought of something quickly. If not I was gonna have issues.

"Oh, uh," And I can already tell by the way that he's looking at me that he knows I'm thinking of a lie to tell him, why did he have to be so smart? "I was getting some sugar for my tea. I was actually just going to ask you if you could tell me where it is." My voice shrunk at the end of the scentence.

"uh, huh. Well no matter, Rigsby is on his way here with Vanpelt. Since I don't have a gun or much experience with one I assume they will be a good help. Cho'll be here soon, he lives closer then they do. Vanpelt is going to bring you some lady clothes. You might want to go to the bathroom, to discover, uh," Wow I had never seen Patrick awkward about anything before, "the cause of that bleeding."

MY blood drained from my head as I felt the warm viscous liquid continue making a path down my leg. I nodded in agreement and made my way to the tub. Finally I felt the pain that hadn't registered during all the shock. I moved into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it just incase. And as illogical as I knew this was I took one step over to the shower and checked behind the curtain, just to see if my mystery assailent was hiding behind it. Like I should have expected, no one.

I finally dropped my towel to the ground and sat on the toilet, this small room being my bunker, my shelter for the time being. I was scared because the pain was coming near somewhere I would rather not have it come from.

Scared, I lifted my shirt slightly; the blood was leaving a stain on my leg, that would be a pain to wash off, that is when I had a chance to wash it off. I lifted it one more inch and finally saw the source of the blood, a cut. A simple not too deep to fatally wound but deep enough to cause a good stream cut on the inside of my upper thigh. As terrible as that was I breathed a sigh of belief. I thought it was going to be worse, but this was just a simple case of assault.

Well, not simple since I was an agent that wasn't on duty at the moment I was cut… I don't think. I'm still not clear. I wiped the blood away with a towel and walked over to the sink to see the damage.

Damn, did I look ugly. I had a scratch on my face that didn't seem to have a reason behind it, at least not as much as my mind would tell me, another bruise on my forehead right above my right eye was beginning to turn a ripe color. I put my elbows on Patrick's sink and took a deep breath before I rested my head into the nest in my hands. I ran my fingers through my hair, finding a bump on my head. No wonder I couldn't remember anything clearly. I got hit too hard.

I heard a knock on the door and the rattling of the chain as Jane let Cho in. I fixed my hair and gave up halfway through after I realized I didn't really care. They were my subordinates and, dammit I do have to be presentable as their boss. I splashed some water on my face and moved my hair a bit. I grabbed at it until some of the knots went away. I still looked beat up, but just a little less beat up.

I exited the room and (while holding the towel around my waist) tried to do my business strut. It didn't work well and I had to settle for a shuffle as I exited the hall.

"Cho." I greeted him.

"Boss" he replied. I sat down as Jane explained as much as he could to him. I sat down and listen to him recount the event. My easy wandered over to the photo again. Maybe I should get my eyes checked, it was about to come into focus when I heard a knock at the door. I grabbed for my hip and looked at the door not blinking. Then I remembered, Cho had the gun, and it was probably Rigsby and Vanpelt here. Thank God I can't wait to change out of her shirt. I hope she doesn't want it back.

Patrick moved to open the door.


End file.
